Seven Deadly Sinners
by Paper Pearls
Summary: Seven sins. Seven drabbles. Seven characters.
1. Pride

**This is my response to Day 5 of **_**Sinistra Black's**_** "Sheherazad/Day By Day" challenge. It will be a series of drabbles focusing on the seven deadly sins.**

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_Perfection_- this was the only word that described the magnitude of Narcissa Malfoy's unrivalled beauty. She sat before her vanity and took in her delicate features, features that she had learned every detail of before she had learned to read or write. There had always been a lure to sit and watch herself and take in her the volume and colour of her hair, cascading over her shoulders like spun gold. It framed her face magnificently, highlighting her refined, aristocratic features and her skin that was unblemished.

Narcissa trailed her perfectly manicured finger across her lips, plump and deep red, ready to be bitten into like fresh, ripe fruits- she stopped her journey across her smooth skin, feeling a slight wrinkle that caused her hand to shake. Looking directly into the icy blue eyes of her mirror reflection, the only equal to her magnificence, Narcissa saw a flicker of fear. She could not lose this. _Gods did not fall and become mere mortals_. She gasped, closing her eyes.

"_Will I always be beautiful, mother- forever and ever?" Four-year-old Narcissa pirouetted before her mother, batting her eyelashes in a way she already knew accentuated their length._

"_Of course you will." Druella Black scooped her youngest child into her arms and carried her to a mirror hanging on the wall. "You will always be my perfect milk and honey daughter." Narcissa laughed in delight, flashing herself a pearly smile and clasping at her rounded cheeks._

Echoing the past, Narcissa placed a hand against each side of her face. The babyish roundness was gone, replaced by sculpted cheekbones. _Of course her beauty had only grown since then. It would only ever continue to grow. _She tossed back her head and laughed, knowing how the simple action would show the graceful curve of her neck. The diamonds adorning her ears would sparkle against her skin. _Her perfect skin._

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	2. Wrath

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The anger of Bellatrix Lestrange had always been quick to surface. Her comrades and enemies alike knew this and feared her because of it. She kicked at the flayed corpse lying in front of her before leaving the dungeons with a satisfied smile. With the scorch marks adorning the ceiling nobody would forget what she had done tonight. _The very existence of mudblood scum like that was an affront to wizarding kind, and they didn't just deserve to be killed but humiliated for daring to besmirch the planet. _

The new recruit opening the door had lifted a robed arm to his face in an attempt to block out the smell of roasted human flesh and he backed away in fear as she approached, causing Bellatrix to laugh. Her mirth recalling the familiar pleasure of fury gushing through her veins like champagne bubbles. She preferred to dole out punishment in accordance to the crime; the blood of muggleborns must be spilled, blood traitors must be tortured into submission and made to betray their own families, those who dared to speak the name of the Dark Lord must first lose their tongues...

_Bellatrix paced in a lazy circle around her prey, a slender brunette witch with doe eyes, considering what new combination of curses she could use. Crouching before the trembling woman, Bellatrix decided to taunt her._

"_And does the filth know why it has to be scrubbed away? Washed like a stain that never was? And soon everyone will forget about it ever having been-" Bellatrix had stopped in disbelief as a goblet of saliva slipped down her cheek. She wiped the clear liquid away and regarded it, shining in the palm of her hand. It had been in that instant she had decided that her prisoner must be made to dry out completely. _

"_I'm sorry." Too late her intended victim had realised it was a mistake to taunt her captor, a woman renowned for her viciousness. Bellatrix licked her lips- she loved being able to pinpoint the moment when the realisation sunk in that there would be no miraculous escape. "I'm so sorry."_

"_I'm sowwy- I'll be a good little girl now, I promise!" Bellatrix laughed in delight as the woman broke into noisy sobs, tears streaming down her cheeks. Soon there would be nothing left to spit or bleed or cry. Savouring the feeling of power as her rage mounted, Bellatrix took aim. "Incendio maxima!"_

Every one of the Death Eaters ranking below her bowed to the Dark Lord's most terrible and brilliant lieutenant as she sauntered from the house, a definite spring in her step. The fire had been glorious, a pyre of the retribution Bellatrix delivered, a beacon of a hatred that would never extinguish.

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	3. Envy

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He had never had the wealth or prestige that many of the others in Slytherin house had been born into, but with his levels of intellect and power Severus Snape found that he was a useful ally to have, and so quickly he made connections. _But there had only ever been one friendship_. He recalled the way Lily had been in life as she had sat by the window in charms class, oblivious of the way the summer sun illuminated her rich red tresses of hair. It had always stood out against her pale skin and the velvet darkness of her robes. _He had noticed her beauty long before Potter. _

The stab of pain caused by this memory was not lessened by time. Severus lifted the crystal tumbler to his mouth and closed his eyes in pleasure as the alcohol burned the back of his throat.

_Even after the demise of their friendship, Severus had never truly relinquished Lily. He sat ensconced in the shadows cast by trees, watching as she walked hand in hand with Potter, basking in the summer sunlight. The pit of his stomach turned to lead as she stood on tiptoes in order to kiss James Potter. It should have been he, Severus, feeling the gentle brush of Lily's mouth against his own. Her hair rippled in the breeze, and as the soft tendrils tickled Potter's face Severus tasted bile._

_It should have been him. More than anything, Severus loved Lily. With equal strength he hated James Potter._

Now, almost twenty years later when the taint of his jealously had devastated countless lives and killed Lily herself, there was nothing left. She was dead and Severus Snape's world was desolate, brightened only by the recollection of Lily. _He may have to live with the burden of his crimes, but there was solace in one thing- he would remember Lily longer than Potter ever would._

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	4. Gluttony

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Dolores Umbridge was a firm believer in the idea that good deeds deserved rewards, and there was nothing more worthwhile than working in order to preserve the ministry. From the very first day of her employment, the sense of bureaucratic synergy had felt just right. _And things had to be just right_.

_It was her office, this little haven. She had been promoted, her skill recognised by her superiors. All morning Dolores had decorated the room; she had turned the wallpaper a most appealing shade of pink, placed two mandatory photographs at precise forty five degree angles to the corner of her desk, put a miniature rosebush on top of her filing cabinet and lastly, placed a little pot of perfect, spherical sweets beside her desk tidy._

_Plucking a red one from the pile, Dolores relished the fruity flavour as she sat and began working on the latest initiative she was supposed to contribute to .It was wonderful, knowing that she deserved the sugary taste filling her mouth. When the last of the sweet had been consumed, she did not hesitate in replacing it. The second was green and it tasted of pears._

Over time Dolores had used her cunning to advance in the career ladder, becoming an increasingly important figure in the Ministry of Magic. As her offices had grown in size and the amount of gold deposited in her Gringotts' account each month rose, so too did the scale of the reward that Dolores felt justified in having.

Now, as Senior Under-Secretary to the Minister for Magic, Dolores Umbridge knew that she was almost indispensable to the wizarding government. She smiled at the photograph of Cornelius Fudge, taking in his serious demeanour and the pose that exuded _exactly_ the right authority. Working to advance his regime was more than good, it was the best thing she could do with her skills. With a sigh Dolores bit into the salted quail's egg. After a few quick bites it was gone, and she licked each of her fingers, determined to enjoy every last bit of it. But she need not stop at one. Lifting another delicacy from her plate, Dolores ate with aplomb and continued until her hunger was sated- _sated for the time being_.

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	5. Greed

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Everything he owned was coveted by many, and Lucius Malfoy was aware of this. He knew exactly the impression his mansion, his beautiful wife, his wealth, his prestige and his position at the ministry had been created, but that was never what was important about attaining any of them. No matter how grand his assets were, Lucius had an unquenchable thirst for more.

_He had waited so long for this moment. Of course his face was carefully schooled to be the picture of sorrow itself, but behind the mask Lucius was anything but unhappy- Abraxas was dead and he had inherited everything. The Malfoy ancestral home was his, as were the lands sprawling in every direction as far as the eye could see. Lucius couldn't help but smile as he looked out of the window to behold his property. Behind him the door opened and his mother entered the study, clad in black mourning robes. Once again he forced his demeanour to become sombre._

"_Lucius, no harm will come of you allowing things to carry on without your attention, at least not until you are fully recovered." Underneath the veil he could see concern shining from her eyes. "I'm proud of the way you're shouldering your responsibilities, but no one will be disappointed if you want to wait before completely taking on your role in society." He kissed her hand and continued the charade for her benefit- for all of her naïveté she was his mother, and he cared for her more than he ever had Abraxas._

"_Don't you see, mother? This is what he would have wanted, and by working I manage to cope considerably better with the loss of father; it fills my days." Lucius accepted his mother's embrace and smirked over her shoulder. His only regret was that he could not share his triumph with her, but already it was not enough._

Never had there been a time when the Malfoy family had been anything less than rich, but with his clever investments their finances soared. Once Draco had been born Narcissa had hinted that it would be good for him to take a break from spending so much time at the ministry. She had shared his hunger, but never to the same extent.

"_It is no longer possible for me to attend the quidditch match tomorrow, Draco." Lucius felt a twinge of guilt as his son's grey eyes welled up with tears- nothing in comparison for his yearning to be at the ministry. Fudge could be exploited so easily that it was positively criminal not to reap the rewards. The last time he had remained away for an entire day the knowledge that he could have more than he already did, no matter how insignificant the bounty, burned at his mind until he felt feverish. He turned on his heel and did not spare his son another glance._

Now he was trapped in the web that his own greed had spun. In attaching himself to the rising star of the Dark Lord, Lucius had failed to take into account that it could fall. All he had seen were more opportunities to gain power, influence and galleons. What the dementors did to him was not nearly as difficult to endure as the knowledge that every day he had a little less money. Imprisoned in Azkaban, all Lucius had was a memory of a time in which he had owned so much. _But never quite enough..._

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	6. Lust

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Every time she caught sight of him it was as though a bolt of lightning had struck every part of Pansy Parkinson's body, igniting carnal feelings that made everything else pale in comparison. She was not the only witch to have noticed Draco Malfoy's magnetic appeal, but she had been the first and that made him hers.

"_The name's Draco Malfoy- how do you do?" Malfoy had quite literally extended the hand of friendship, eager to forge alliances from the beginning of his first year. There had been an enigmatic allure about his eyes, and as she had allowed him to shake her hand Pansy felt the strangest tingle racing up her fingers._

"_Pansy Parkinson, and the pleasure is all mine." She had given him her most winning smile._

When she had spoken those words at the tender age of eleven, Pansy had no idea just how true they would become. As time had passed, that first little spark had turned into an electric jolt in the pit of her stomach every time she caught sight of Malfoy. The sight of his hands, animated before him as he tried to convey an idea to Crabbe and Goyle, drove her to distraction when she imagined their dexterity being put to better use. Whenever she saw his platinum blonde hair shining in the sunlight, Pansy could not but help wondering what it would feel like knotted between her fingers.

"_I don't love you Pansy. You do realise that, don't you?" Draco had looked at her, his pale face flushed scarlet. For once his knowing grey eyes had been wide in bewilderment. In response, Pansy had simply tossed her head._

"_That doesn't matter. You feel this is much as I do. You want me, and that's what counts." Pansy licked her lips in anticipation. When Malfoy kissed her it was as though her senses were being allowed a taste of something more glorious than most were allowed to experience._

All along she had known that it could never last; Draco's heart had never been in their passionate relationship. He wanted her body, but his own desire had always lacked the insatiable intensity of Pansy's. Even now, when she saw him hand in hand with Astoria Greengrass, Pansy knew that there was nothing she would not do for just one more searing moment of pleasure.

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	7. Sloth

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Serious decisions, Zacharias Smith found, required a great deal of effort on his part: effort that he was not willing to give. First there came the point at which he must weigh up his options, laboriously comparing their merits. This had always presented a discouragement.

"_There is great cunning in your mind, and the willingness to place yourself above others; you would find success in Slytherin house." The voice of the sorting hat echoed in his mind. When he didn't respond, it continued. "Not so fond of that idea, eh? Well how about Gryffindor if you're not so keen on Slytherin?"_

_Were he in Gryffindor there would be expectations of bravery or loyalty, neither of which Zacharias felt any real inclination towards. If he had to be in Slytherin then there would be a similar stress placed on the value of ambition. It all seemed so much effort, perhaps too much effort. As though sensing his thoughts, the hat made its decision._

"_HUFFLEPUFF!" When its voice had resounded throughout the hall, Zacharias had been relieved. In the house he had been sorted into there was no need to embody either extreme and neither were there the same politics to be dealt with. It would be much easier in Hufflepuff. He smiled lazily as he sank onto the bench, leaning against the table and allowing it to support his weight._

After a choice had been reached there came a point at which one had to defend one's beliefs. This, if possible, was more taxing to Zacharias than the first part of the decision making process. He didn't understand why it was necessary to do anything other than sit back and watch events play out before his eyes. Situations had a habit of escalating quickly when he was at his most apathetic.

The most recent choice of any magnitude that Zacharias had been forced to make was to opt out of the Battle of Hogwarts. With a clarity he had never experienced before, Zacharias knew that preserving his own life was going to be a lot less effort if he followed the evacuees instead of risking perilous encounters with the Death Eaters. When he had finally reached home and fallen into bed exhausted, Zacharias had slept soundly as the battle raged elsewhere.

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